


Experimental Bioethics

by threeturn



Category: Community
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 05:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/threeturn/pseuds/threeturn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Britta needs help with her psych homework. As usual, Annie goes above and beyond.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Experimental Bioethics

"Okay," said Britta, sitting cross-legged on her bed, legal pad in her lap. "The first thing we should talk about is informed consent."

Annie put her hand on Britta’s knee reassuringly. "I consent to helping you with your psych homework."

"No, see," said Britta, "the informed part is knowing what you’re actually consenting to, which is taking part in a research study. You’re my cohort."

Annie got up to pet Britta’s giant pottery cat. Britta’s real cats seemed to spend most of Annie’s visits hiding in the closet. "Actually, Britta, I think I’m just part of your cohort. I think cohorts are bigger than one person." 

Britta frowned and flipped through the notebook balanced on her pajama-clad legs. "Annie, I know you like to talk when you’re nervous, because it allows you to repress anxiety, but you don’t have to work so hard to feel like you’re in charge." 

Annie flopped back down on Britta’s bed, which was kind of scratchy because her new duvet cover was made from gunnysacks that had once held Fair Trade coffee. "Okay _, fine,_ I’m your cohort. What’s the study?"

"It’s about reactions to information disclosure that could be potentially transformative with respect to personal identity," explained Britta, speaking slowly and carefully.

"Wow," said Annie. "In health care management we just talk about HIPAA."

Britta looked at her and then started scribbling madly on her pad.

"What?" Annie demanded. "What did I say?" She knelt next to Britta and tried to read sideways.

" _Subject attempts to deflect consent process with zoo animal references in compulsive bid for control_ ," Britta read back to her.

" _Researcher attempts to disguise insight with pretense of being a dimbulb_ ," said Annie to the ceiling, since she didn’t have a legal pad.

"Actually, I’m probably not supposed to tell you my analysis," said Britta quickly. "At least not before the paper is published."

"Your cohort will pretend she didn’t hear anything," said Annie. "Look, can we just get to the study? I don’t think I really understood the topic, to be honest, but you’re just going to ask me questions or something, right?"

Britta took off the fake glasses she wore when she was practicing therapy with Abed. She looked intently at Annie.

"Annie," she said. "What would you say if you found out something about me that you never dreamed could possibly be true?"

Annie blinked. "Um, like that you had a New Kids on the Block Trapper Keeper as late as seventh grade or that you get lattes from Starbucks and then just throw away the plastic cups or that you have that weird sex toy thing with the straps under your bed? Because I know about all that stuff already, and it’s fine! It’s totally fine!" 

She was only trying to be reassuring, but Britta was glaring at her. "I do _not_ throw away plastic cups from Starbucks."

"I…saw them in the trash? Britta, it’s okay. Let’s just do the study." But Britta had tossed her pad aside, her hand shaking a little, so Annie held it still with hers.

"Right," Britta said. "Annie, I have to tell you something."

Annie sighed. It was possible that finishing her essay on insurance financing for her Risk Management class was going to have to wait until tomorrow. It was already kind of late and she still had the trip home. She squeezed Britta’s hand. "You know what, Britta? Recycling plastic is not very environmentally efficient, anyway."

"That’s not the point," Britta insisted. "I’m the older one and I need to provide a role model for you, because your parents are horrible and Shirley is busy and Troy and Abed just keep watching the Inspector Spacebag Christmas Special." Britta’s voice was muffled against Annie’s shoulder, because at some point she had tilted forward for comfort. Annie patted her on the shoulder.

"Oh, Britta," said Annie. "You’re a _great_ role model. You cut right through everyone’s crap and you’re really good in—" Annie broke off. Jeff probably should never have mentioned that anyway, and not just because Annie hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. "And you take really good care of your cats."

"Who cares, if I’m leaving them a world full of _plastic_ ," Britta said.

"Look, I’ll help you take the cups to the recycling center tomorrow," said Annie. She tugged gently at Britta’s hair. "Look at me." 

Britta lifted her head from Annie’s shoulder. Her eyes were sad.

Annie said, "Britta, you are the _best_ ," and then she leaned in to Britta’s disbelieving mouth.

Later she would claim to herself that she was just going to deliver a firm, reassuring peck, like clapping another guy on the back if you were on that guy’s team and were in the locker room together and the guy was feeling really bad because he’d dropped a—a _football_ or something and was sitting on the bench with his head in his hands so you sat down next to him and clapped him on the back and he said, "Thanks, buddy, I needed that."

Britta did not say, "Thanks, buddy, I needed that."  Nor did she pull back, which was what Annie half-expected, remembering too late what had happened at that Valentine’s Day dance after Britta had gotten over proving how not homophobic she was. It was possible that Britta was going to say _something_ , because her mouth was opening against Annie’s, but if so, Annie wasn’t listening. _Change of plans!_ she thought to herself a little hysterically as she kissed Britta in a way that bore very little resemblance to a firm, reassuring peck. _Sorry, Risk Management 101, try back tomorrow!_ _Busy with Britta’s tongue right now!_

Britta had one hand in Annie’s hair and another on her leg, and Annie was wondering if it was too early to climb into her lap, both because she really wanted to get closer and because it would be nice to get up and off the burlap duvet cover, which felt even scratchier now that her skirt was being hiked up higher on her thighs. She paused to suggest taking it off, or relocating, or something, so that she could have more of Britta in her arms without getting skin abrasions, but before she could figure out the right way to make the invitation, to show Britta how incredibly much more sophisticated she’d become in the last two years, Britta dove away from her, grabbed her legal pad, and began scribbling.

Annie looked at her, confused. Britta’s hair was a mess and her camisole strap was pushed off her shoulder, which Annie didn’t even remember happening. Her lips looked particularly red and not sad at all anymore. So that was a good thing, anyway, even if Annie wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do now except stare at Britta while she made mad, excited notations, as if she’d just figured out how to end all carbon emissions while simultaneously inspiring everyone in the study group to keep dream journals.

"Um," Annie said at last. "So, that was nice?" She tried to sound kind of cool, like it was no big deal, which of course it wasn’t to Britta, who was used to doing complicated sex things Annie had probably never even heard of.

Britta didn’t look up. "It was excellent," she said. "Superb research outcome. Of course having a flair for study design doesn’t hurt. My professor says—"

"Wait, what?" interrupted Annie. "Research outcome?"

Britta put her glasses back on. "I mean, you’re a great test subject too, Annie, I don’t mean to take that away from you."

Annie felt a little dazed. She grabbed her phone and texted _Abed I’m at Britta’s place not your new dreamatorium right???_  Then she got up from the bed with as much dignity as is possible after crouching on gunnysacks to make out with a friend.

"What did you just text?" asked Britta.

"What did you just write in your notebook?" countered Annie. She smoothed out her skirt. There were weird jute fibers or something stuck to it. Her phone buzzed.

_Confirmed. Are you coming home soon?  We’re short a Cleopatra10._

Britta cleared her throat and Annie looked up. Britta was holding up her notebook proudly. "It was my analysis. _Subject reacts to disclosure with uncontrollable lust_ —" she began.

Annie’s jaw dropped. "Are you kidding? Like I was the only one! I heard you, like, whimpering, Britta Perry! And disclosure?! What disclosure? I already knew about the stupid Starbucks cups!"

"What?" Britta looked confused. "No, that wasn’t the disclosure. The disclosure was that I’m a lesbian."

"Well, I get that _now_!" said Annie.

"No no no no no," said Britta patiently. "I’m not _actually_ a lesbian. The idea was to _say_ that I was, and then monitor your reaction."

"Okay," said Annie. "I’m not even going to comment on your, um, identity, because that’s your business and it kind of makes my head hurt, but I feel that it’s legitimate for me to say that first of all, that’s a really weird study, and second of all, you didn’t disclose jack squat, I just wanted to kiss you."

"I didn’t…?" Britta trailed off and thought hard. "I guess I forgot that step. Damn. Why’d you kiss me, then?"

"Oh my god, Britta, you idiot. No, I don’t mean that, I mean oh my god, you _person_. That I don’t entirely dislike or find repulsive."

Britta smiled and then frowned. "I wonder if that skews the findings."

Annie texted Abed. _Home too late for Cleo10. Sorry buddy._ Then she asked, as gently as possible, "Britta, what is the actual point of the study?"

"I told you," said Britta, "I’m investigating reaction patterns and social rituals when people learn something shocking about their friends. I mean, not shocking to me, obviously, because I’m a mature person, but shocking to them."

"Huh," said Annie. She sat down on the floor, a safe distance away from the crazy person. "Were you going to do this with anyone outside the study group?  I feel like maybe you’re going to have a problem with statistical significance."

Britta peered at her intently. "Annie, do you think you’re reacting this way to my study because of your discomfort with lesbianism?"

"Oh for—Britta, I do not have any—wait, what are you writing right now?"

"I can’t tell you," said Britta smugly. "Unethical." 

"What’s unethical," said Annie, "is faking gay for a _school project_."

"Well, I can’t exactly go around telling people I don’t recycle!" Britta yelled back. "It’s embarrassing!"

"Right." They were quiet for a moment. "So," said Annie, "who else are you trying this on?" 

"I haven’t identified all of my prospective cohort," Britta said. "You were the first."

Annie scooched herself a little closer to the bed. Britta’s leg was dangling off the edge. She was wearing fuzzy slippers and pompom socks. Annie touched Britta’s ankle bone lightly.

"Britta?"

"Hmm?"

"Britta, I think disclosing that you buy your iced coffee in a plastic cup and don’t recycle it would be incredibly brave, plus really shocking to a lot of people. You would get tons of data, especially if you wore an Earth First T-shirt for the disclosure."

"I’ll think about it," said Britta slowly. "Maybe."

"It’s hard, I know," said Annie. She knelt in front of Britta. "But it would make you such a great role model to admit your personal shortcomings for the sake of science. And the other thing…just…" Annie remembered Britta’s mouth on hers. "Oh, just think it through, Britta, because—"

"What?"

"Because," said Annie, and bent her head to brush her lips against the side of Britta’s knee. She didn’t want to see Britta’s analysis face, so she didn’t look up. But she felt Britta’s hand on her jaw, lifting her head anyway.

"It’s possible," said Britta, "that I’m changing my mind about something else."

"Yeah?" Annie tried not to stare at Britta’s mouth.

"Yeah." Britta’s voice was soft now. "I don’t want you to feel bad about this, but I don’t think you’re a very good test subject for me after all."

"No?" The nice thing about one-syllable words was that Annie could almost always get through them without her voice wobbling.

"See, no one wants researcher bias affecting the data," said Britta, and her face was dead serious, right before the smile that lit up her whole face. "So let’s just make out instead." 

And then she was pulling Annie up while Annie was pulling her down, and they were on the floor and rolling and Annie was thinking _is this actually real_ but it was too late to text Abed and ask because Britta was saying “Annie, Annie,” and Annie was answering her.

 


End file.
